I Love You, Like it or Not
by Driffta
Summary: Harry is lost in a downward spiral. Years after the Battle of Hogawarts he finds himself isolated, looking for comfort wherever he can find it. short love story with SS/HP.
1. Chapter 1

Harry looked up at the blank white ceiling reminiscing about the past. He closed his eyes for a moment and turned to gaze at the sleeping figure beside him. He let a wry smile play at the edges of his lips as he remembered the first time he had ever confessed to anyone. Harry sighed and bit his lip letting out a humorless little laugh. He remembered that day as if it were yesterday. It had been after his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class of the semester, only one year before The Battle of Hogwarts, funny how so much had changed since then. Harry had lagged behind; he was waiting for the professor to exit the classroom. The young boy had been thrilled to find out that the man he'd secretly pledged himself to had finally gotten the job he'd been lusting after for so long. Harry had been so elated, so pleased for him that he'd blurted out his feelings out as the professor passed by. Severus Snape halted and slowly dragged his head to face the seventeen year-old boy. "Excuse me, Mister Potter?" His voice was barely louder than a whisper. That was a dangerous sign.

"I said I lo-" Harry began

"I heard what you said, Mister Potter." He hissed. "If you are trying to be funny then you are remiss." His eyes narrowed.

"I wasn't kidding! I mean it! Believe me, Sna—Professor!"

"Silence!" another hiss sprung from Snape's lips as he moved closer, forcing Harry to back up into the empty classroom. "Even if it were true, how did you honestly think I would react, foolish boy? Do you honestly think I would reciprocate those feelings? You are the _son _of the man I _hated_ the most in my life."

Harry jerked his shoulder, his eyes growing wide. "I just –"he stuttered. Pain clouded his eyes for a moment, leaving a residue of hurt.

"Not only that Mister Potter," Snape continued, "but you are also my _student _and a _boy_, not only that but you are twenty years my junior. What made you think you even had a chance?"

"What about Malfoy?" Harry lashed out "I know how close you two are! " Harry flinched at the look on Snape's face, but stood his ground resolutely. "That's right!" he said, his eyes flashing. "I know what's going on!"

"Mister Potter." Snape sibilated "if I were you I would watch what I say, and _keep _those delusions to yourself!" he paused for a moment "if you don't, you might get someone hurt." the implied threat adhered to the air making the surrounding area shift in discomfort. After a few moments Snape swept off leaving Harry standing in the abandoned classroom staring after him.

Four years later, found Harry sitting on a king sized bed covered with white silk sheets in an apartment in Berlin. Harry had changed drastically since then, no longer the innocent boy with the bright eyes. He'd seen things that would make even the most seasoned soldier turn away. No longer was he a sweet little virgin boy in his teens, Harry had done almost anyone who came on to him, he didn't care anymore.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Dennis Creevy propped himself up on one elbow and flashed a smile at the brooding man.

Harry glanced down at Dennis and frowned, pulling his legs to his chest. "Nothing" was his curt reply.

"Come on, Harry! You know you can tell me anything! I mean, after last night. . ." he trailed off with a deep throated, self-satisfied chuckle.

Harry felt nauseated, why had he done it? Why? Dennis was such a good kid. How could he have defiled him? Harry knew Dennis still thought about the Battle of Hogwarts, about his older brother Colin, something Harry used to his advantage. He knew Dennis was still not over that. How could anyone blame him? It had been a gruesome ordeal; no one knew that better than The Boy Who Lived. Just the thought of that day left a bitter taste in the wizard's mouth. He had lost so much in that battle, so many good people. Time to clear this mess up; he thought to himself. "I only slept with you because you were there, Dennis. Don't get cocky." Harry drew the sheets around himself and stood up. Dennis grabbed his arm and knelt up. "I know Harry. You don't have to be like—" he trailed off and looked up desperately at Harry. "You haven't been right, Harry. Not for a long time, what happened? You never talk about anything – lean on anyone, not since Cedric died."

Harry shook Dennis's hand away and collected his clothing from the floor. "Keep your opinions to yourself, Dennis. I'm fine."

"But Harry, we're…I'm worried about you!"

"Well you shouldn't bother, then! Don't be a fucking prick!" Harry whipped around to face Dennis. "I'm going to take a shower, when I get out you'd better well be gone. I don't want a single trace of you left in this apartment." His eyes were cold, devoid of feeling, his tone icy. Harry didn't need anyone.

The hot shower felt good against his skin. Lately Harry was always cold, it used to be where he could find warmth in sex, but lately nothing warmed him up. He opened the door to find Dennis gone, as it should be. After all, everyone left eventually. Harry curled up on the bed with a bottle of firewhiskey as he wondered who he'd to find to fill his bed tonight. A vacant gaze settled itself over his weary eyes. The room was so cold.


	2. Chapter 2

The Boy Who Lived stared at the wreckage that used to be a small wizarding community. He saw a few witches huddling in the corner of the old town pub – now a pile of rubble with one wall jutting out from the mess. The two women were trying to console each other. Debris littered the ground, shrapnel embedded in walls. Healers were bearing away the bodies of the dead and wounded. This was what Harry hated about being an Auror, more than the sitting, more than the waiting, more than the endless hours of reading; he hated seeing all the carnage left behind in some mad plot of revenge. Voldemort had been dead for years, but still there were misguided wizards and witches looking to destroy the world that had destroyed their leader.

Harry sighed wearily. He had had a headache for almost an entire month, a horrible mind crushing headache. Nothing stopped it from pounding his head in like a nail; no pain potions, muggle painkillers, or spells stopped the incessant beating. The wizard wondered if it had anything to do with the work he was doing in Germany. Even though he had only been there a few months, life in Berlin was getting to be monotonous. He wanted to hunt something; he wanted to…he needed action. This stagnant life was wearing him down day by day. Harry had thought that transferring to Germany would change up his life, give it some spice it so desperately lacked. He had been wrong. No matter where he was everything was much the same as in England. Everyone knew his face, everyone knew his name, and they all wanted to be on friendly terms with The Boy Who Lived to Defeat the Dark Lord.

As much as he hated to admit it, all Harry wanted was to go back to the way it was – everything was so much simpler then; he had one goal and he mindlessly, relentlessly pursued it, not like now. Now he didn't know what to do anymore, everywhere he looked he saw a Death Eater; everywhere he turned there was an enemy. He couldn't stop thinking about it. He half expected Voldemort to come up behind him and use the Killing Curse at any moment. Back then he was still Ron's best friend, unlike now. Now, after Harry had outed himself, Ron avoided him like the plague. Every time they ran into each other Ron would look away and walk in the other direction. It used to break Harry's heart, now he was numb. He never went to any of the Designated Magical Areas in England so as not to run into Ron. Harry was still on good, no, excellent terms with Hermione, they had become even closer after the catastrophe that was his friendship with Ron.

He still smiled every time he thought of how Hermione had reacted when she found out what had transpired between the two boys after Harry had come out; namely that Ron had told him that he couldn't be around him right now, he wasn't comfortable with it. When she heard what happened, Hermione had stormed to Ron's house with Harry close behind, trying to dissuade her from doing anything she might regret. Ignoring him she shattered the door. As soon as Ron ran out of the living room to see what was happening she lifted her wand and screamed "EXPELLIARMUS!" then; before he could react, she made a swishing motion with her wand and pointed it directly at Ron's chest, shouting "WADDIWASI!" In a moment every object that wasn't bolted down flew at Ron, who held his arms up over his head in fear. He didn't need to worry, though; the objects fell short of actually hitting him and instead crashed to the ground. He peered up at the ferocious witch. "If you can't handle your best friend liking men then you don't deserve him." She snarled "Don't you EVER speak to Harry or me again, because I swear if you do I'll rip your fucking bollocks off you stupid git!" She had menaced, her eyes flashing angrily.

Even Hermione was gone now, though. She was off traveling the world with Viktor. He'd get postcards from all the places she'd been with quick notes scribbled across them; the last one was sent from Romania and had read:

_Harry,_

_I'm sending something your way that I'm sure you'll appreciate! _

_ Hugs and kisses,_

_ Hermione_

Harry did not begrudge her happiness, Merlin knows she deserved it.

"Mister Potter!" Harry froze, out of the corner of his eye he could something black fluttering in the wind, but no. It was not the Professor. A plump auror dressed in black robes made his way to Harry. Mentally shaking himself he berated his stupid mind. You prat! He's not around. He's not here. He's not coming back. He doesn't love you. "Ich ließ die Information an ihre Adresse senden." The German wheezed, trying to catch his breath from the long hike.

"Danke herr Müller" Harry replied in broken German. "Ich werde auf meinem Weg jetzt sein." From the quizzical look the wizard gave him, he knew he had spoken it wrong. Why was German such a difficult language to learn?

Back at his apartment Harry walked straight to his bed and collapsed on it. "Acci—bollocks. What's the point?" he sighed and raked his fingers through his coarse black hair. He felt haggard. The beat of his constant headache continued to roll over him. He needed something; someone…Harry closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of death.

_All around Harry could see dead bodies. The acrid smell of burning flesh accosted his nose, he felt like throwing up. His ears were ringing with the sound of screams. _

_ Something protruded out from the ground causing Harry to lose his footing; he almost fell to the ground but caught himself at the last moment. Looking down Harry saw what had made him stumble, he felt sick to his stomach all over again. A dead body. Who was it? Harry was loath to look, but a morbid sense of curiosity made him nudge the body with the toe of his shoe. A hideous grinning face turned to leer at him, making Harry leap back in horror. _

_"Scared, Potter?" The words hovered around his ears like gnats, constantly buzzing and biting._

_ Malfoy._

Harry opened his eyes and stared at the spotless white ceiling. He hated the color white. He knew what people whispered about him – he knew they said he was broken. Every day he risked his life for them and they aspersed him. How could they understand what he went through? How could they know about the nightmares he saw every time he closed his eyes? How he hadn't slept once in weeks…how life was almost meaningless to him. Nothing was the same; he couldn't find enjoyment in the little things. Eventually everyone got tired of him and left; that's what happened to Ginny. She couldn't deal with him with all his and now she was happily married to Draco of all people. "I must be barking." He laughed a tiny slightly hysterical laugh and sat up. He couldn't sleep, that thought surged through his mind; he hadn't slept a full night in four years. Harry rubbed his tired eyes and got up in search of something strong to burn its way down his throat.

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><p>In a town called Brasov in Central Romania, Hermione trudged down a dark street and stopped at the door of a dimly lit pub named Britain Arms. She had heard rumors that he often came here, so she had left Viktor back at the hotel and had made her way to this dingy little pub. As she opened the door the sound of Metal assailed her ears and she almost coughed due to the thick cloud of smoke that surrounded the dank cellar. While she became accustomed to the haze she noticed that there were no other women in the room and that the men had stopped talking. Gulping, she braced herself and made her way to the bar. The man behind the counter was burly and covered in tattoos and piercings. He looked up as she got closer and the look he sent her way was enough to stop her dead in her tracks. Maybe this was a bad idea? Should she have even come here in the first place? Her eyes raked the smoky room looking for a sign, any sign on him. Nothing. Just as she was about to leave she saw what she was looking for: a sheet of black hair escaped the bonds on its hair tie and fell passed his crooked nose, a slender white hand pushed it back nonchalantly. A tall glass of stout next to his black clad elbow. He was staring right at her.<p>

Pictures were shoved in front of his face. Black, soulless eyes glanced up at the woman standing before him. "Miss Granger" he acknowledged "what is this?"

"Pictures, Professor." Hermione placed them on the table and crossed her arms – ready for a fight.

"I see that, what pertinence do they have to our meeting?" Snape's left hand moved to the drink at his elbow, traced a long white finger around the rim of the top three times before bringing the glass to his lips.

"It's Harry, Sir. He's a wreck."

"I do not see how any of this is my concern." A flicker of emotion sounded in the depths of his eyes, but was gone as soon as it arose.

"With all respect Professor Snape, he needs you, and you know it." Was the pert reply.

"Must I remind you, Miss Granger? I am no longer your teacher, nor do I work at Hogwarts anymore. Harry is no longer my student; therefor he is no longer my dilemma." He looked straight into Hermione's eyes "if you have come all this way for that then you have wasted your time. I have no wish to be entangled in Mister Potter's life, he is no my responsibility."

"You keep saying that like you're trying to convince yourself, Sir. Act as heartless as you like, Professor, but I can tell you aren't completely detached and emotionless, and it's about time you realized that, too, because if you don't it might be too late." Hermione swiped a sleeve across her face, wiping up the tears that were shining in her eyes.

Before Snape could formulate a reply to her heated speech, Hermione had turned on her heel and walked quickly through the room and out the door, leaving behind the pictures. Snape was silent for a few moments. "Well now…" he was honestly surprised that Hermione Granger of all people had been so outspoken to him. He always knew she had it in her. The corners of his lips twitched in what appeared to be a smile on the microscopic level. Snape picked up a picture and the smile slid off his face, his blood ran cold. Harry was sitting at a table much like the ones in this pub; he had a bruise near his lips. He was shoving a tall black haired man away from him forcefully. Harry's face was contorted in anger and hurt, his mouth moved, even though there was no sound to the photo, Snape new exactly what was being said. He closed his hand over the picture, crushing it. The others were much the same – every photo featured Harry with someone new, at a pub or walking home, far too drunk to apparate. The older wizard's eyes narrowed. He was not going to get involved in Potter's life; he was trouble, drama, something Severus Snape did not need.

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><p>Reviews are my bread and butter! I love to hear what everyone thinks, and I know this story needs a lot of improvement, so please do review!<p>


	3. Chapter 3

Harry slouched over a bar, drink in hand. His face was plastered on the paper right next to him. The headlines read Harry Potter Takes Out An Entire Den of Rouge Dementors. The picture below was of the young wizard putting away his wand and leaving a cave where a silver stag was starting to fade into nothingness.

"Another amazing feat of the famous Harry Potter. Das ist gut, eh?" The orange haired bartender replied as he shook up a martini.

"Nein, Krüger. Das ist..." Harry paused for a moment, then gave up trying to speak German at that point "it's all very meaningless." His glasses slid down his nose as he stared dismally at his Irish Russian before swallowing the rest of it in one gulp. "Another please."

"Don't you think you'd better go easy on that, Freund." Krüger flashed him a worried look.

Harry smirked and pushed his glasses up. "Don't be daft, I'm hardly pissed…just…thirsty."

"The next drink is on me." A smooth male voice with an American accent sounded from behind Harry. The two men looked around and saw a tall gentleman standing about a meter away, a self-absorbed smile smeared across his lips.

Harry looked him up and down approvingly. The man was his type; handsome, tall, dark red-brown hair, pale blue eyes, thin, muscular. Yes, he was perfect. "Alright, but on one condition." Harry glanced flirtatiously at the wizard. He needed someone to keep him company tonight.

"And what's that?" he raised his eyebrows, he smile firmly in place.

"You let me buy the next round" Harry paused and looked expectantly at the man.

"Lyon, and I accept your terms." He slid into the seat next to Harry and leaned elegantly on an elbow. "So, what's a handsome fellow like yourself doing sitting all alone on a Saturday night?"

"Drinking." Was the simple answer. "But I'm open for alternative activities."

"I think we might think of something a little more exciting to do." Lyon fingered the glass that had been placed on the wooden bar top, undressing Harry with his eyes.

Harry smiled slyly and readjusted his glasses once more. "I'm all ears."

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><p>Snape paced around the wooden floors of his living room, a smoldering cigarette in between his fingers. He snarled and took an angry drag. It was a nasty habit he had picked up a few years ago, now he just didn't feel like stopping. Snape sighed and rubbed his forehead. This was why he had left the wizarding community, all the drama, the mistrust, the worry. He had left all that behind. He lived in the muggle world now, rarely ever venturing into a Designated Magical Area. It was better this way. He was in Romania, but soon he'd leave. Staying in one place for too long meant getting attached to the surroundings, it meant having to feel something other than this empty facade. A groan escaped his lips and he collapsed into a black overstuffed armchair. "What am I doing?" he asked miserably. How had Granger found him? He'd been untraceable, or so he thought. She always had been clever, unlike Potter…Potter. Snape leaned back and put the cigarette to his lips...Help Potter? Was she daft? He had never liked the boy! The boy was incommensurable, he always did things that made Snape want to rip his hair out, want to pin the brat down and...<br>Snape jerked out of his reverie and stood up sharply. This was ridiculous! Potter meant nothing to him, the only reason why he had protected him in the first place was because of Lily, was because he had to. There were no other reasons, and the fact that he had made plans to visit Berlin had nothing to do with that brat. It was just – just…he'd been here for too long. It had nothing to do with the soulless look in the boy's eyes. The pictures of Harry sporting a bruise or a cut left a bitter feeling in the pit of Snape's stomach. He couldn't help but want to shake Potter, after all that everyone had done to save the boy, he was throwing it all away. Making people worry.

"I'm not going for him. He's in my past." Or is he, asked his treacherous mind.

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><p>It was Thursday, almost a week after Harry had met Lyon at the bar; the two of them were sitting in Harry's usual spot, an Irish Russian at Harry's fingertips and a black martini at his companion's. Harry was unused to staying with one person this long, because he was so bemused by this situation he was in he had drank more than was prudent or normal for him on a Thursday evening. As a consequence he was almost completely sloshed, though he refused to admit it. After shoving pesky thoughts into a small corner of his mind, Harry pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, something he did quite a lot when he was unsure of himself, and looked at his companion.<p>

Lyon noticed the sudden attention and smiled at him, raising his glass. "Cheers my beautiful angel."

Harry frowned slightly and turned back to his drink. This was just odd. How was this going to pan out? Harry hadn't been in a relationship since...since Ginny; even then he was a bit vague on the whole "dating" thing. He'd always been too preoccupied with Voldemort. How was he supposed to act? So far they'd just been fuck buddies, but it seemed that Lyon had other ideas about their relationship because last night he informed Harry that he was going to take him on a proper date. Harry was confused and a little unsure of himself. He wanted to get out. He stole another glance at Lyon - the man was attractive, there was no getting around it. He was in amazing shape, his abdomen was chiseled into a perfect six pack, which his clingy orange T-shirt accentuated beautifully, his long legs were encased in dark wash jeans and crossed elegantly. Something about the way he carried himself bothered Harry, sometimes he thought he saw a flash of something dark behind those exquisite eyes. Nonsense. He was just being overcautious and paranoid. Right? Right!  
>"Where will be going tomorrow?" Finally! Harry was pleased he was able to say something coherent, a first for the evening.<p>

"That is a secret, Mister Harry Potter." another smile. Harry sometimes felt like cursing the smile off that pretty face.

* * *

><p>Severus Snape cut an impressive figure standing still in a parking lot of a small brick bar in Berlin, his long coal fog coat snapping about in the gusty breeze, a deep blue-green silk shirt covered his chest; black slacks hugged his thin lengthy legs and were met by black leather loafers, his ebony hair, which was tied back in a ponytail, seemed like it had a life of its own, twisting and turning in the wind.<p>

Should he enter? Why should he? The boy meant nothing to him.  
>Severus shook his head and turned to leave. This was ridiculous! He balled his hand into a tight fist. Where were his cigarettes when he needed them?<p>

* * *

><p>Harry pulled on the neck of his midnight blue sweater, he wanted to go home and sleep. His head was spinning and he felt that weird bubbly sensation in his stomach he got whenever he was drunk.<p>

"Hey," Harry looked at Lyon and finished the last swallow of his drink and stood up shakily. "I have a bottle of Merlot and a corkscrew waiting for me at my flat, you wanna leave?"  
>His companion looked at him, his eyes rested lecherously on the black skinny jeans Harry was wearing then looked back up at Harry's face. "Yeah, sure. Let's go to your place." Lyon stood up and they made their way through the bar.<br>Harry wobbled unsteadily toward the door, staring intently at his feet, trying not to lose balance when THWACK! Not paying attention had its consequences; Harry thought as he bumped into an empty chair and knocked into someone who was just entering the building. "Sorry, mate. Wasn't paying attention to my surroundings." he slurred, not bothering to look up. He wanted to get out of here as soon as possible, the Merlot was calling.

White hands reached out to grab Harry's shoulders, long fingers curled around them, steadying the swaying wizard. "Clearly not, Mister Potter." was the wry reply.

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><p>Os on all of your O.W.L.s for those of you who are kind enough to review!<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

Harry froze. He could never forget that voice. The crisp pronunciation, always so cold - except, wait, what was this tone. Was Harry just imagining things? Slowly he dragged his gaze along Snape's black clad arms and up to a thin, elegant neck, until he was staring into a pair of all-too-familiar black eyes in an all-too-familiar white face. A few strands of ebony hair had fallen loose from their confines and framed his angular face, softening the cheekbones. Harry's heart thudded in his chest. This was all wrong.  
>"Snape." he croaked, swallowing hard.<p>

"Potter." Snape acknowledged a slight frown on his face.

That broke the overwhelming feeling of desire that had crashed into Harry. Immediately he jerked his shoulder away from Snape's grasp. "What are you doing here, Snape? How did you find me?"

Severus snorted in amusement. Was the boy really asking him that? "It wasn't that difficult of a task, not that I was looking. Our meeting was purely coincidental, I assure you."

Harry's eyes flashed. "Why the fuck did you even bother coming in here? Because if you knew I was in Berlin then you must have known I always come to this bar, Snape." Harry hissed heatedly.  
>Before Severus could finish, another voice announced its presence. "Excuse me, but Harry and I had an important engagement to get to." the lazy American drawl broke into the heated reunion. Lyon put a hand on Harry's arm and pulled him close.<p>

"And you are?" asked Snape in a soft voice. Looking the man up and down, he raised an eyebrow and let a sneering smirk settle across his thin lips. His expression made Lyon a little unsettled. It seemed to say "how quaint."

"Ah, this is Ted-er, Ned..." Harry spluttered. How, after all these years could he still be so...fucking hot? No. He was not going to do this. He was not going to lose his head. Snape was just here to...to. Why the bloody hell was the git here? Blinking dazedly, Harry looked up at his old professor, a bleak look

"It's Lyon, actually." Lyon looked down at Harry and frowned, tightening his grip. Snape's presence was threatening.

"Ow! Blimey, what the hell?" Harry shifted his attention from Snape to Lyon. He tried to jerk away from the vice like grip, but Lyon wouldn't let go. "Hey! I said let me go!"

Suddenly Snape's arm thrust forward grabbed Lyon's wrist and twisted it, effortlessly breaking the man's grip on Harry's arm.  
>"What the fuck, man? I don't know who you are, but you should walk away before this gets ugly!" Lyon tried to latch onto Harry again, but Snape was too quick for him. Harry found himself pressed against the hard body of Severus Snape. An arm had snaked around him protectively.<p>

"Now listen to me, boy." Severus hissed, leaning so close to Lyon that their noses almost touched. The arm that wasn't holding Harry close to him reached up and he placed his hand on Lyon's shoulder. "Touch him again and you won't get off so easily." his lips twisted into a cruel smile as he saw the look of fear in his opponent's eyes. "We'll be going now."  
>Snape dragged Harry out of the building and on to the sidewalk a few feet away from the entrance before Harry pulled himself out of the daze and pulled away from the older man.<br>"Gerroff me! I'm not going anywhere with you!" he stumbled a few steps away from the Potions Master and took a few deep breaths, trying to clear his foggy mind.

Much to Harry's surprise Snape grasped his arm again and pulled him a few more meters before Harry yanked free and stood his ground. "Leave me alone Snape. You've never had anything to do with me before, don't start now!"

Snape almost gaped at the boy. "Never had anything to do with you? Who do you think saved your scrawny ass all those times?" he spluttered.

"Shove it! You never did it for me, it was for my mother, to get even with my father, and because Dumbledore asked you to. It was never about me." Harry spat angrily, his face twisted in anger and rejection. "I don't want to see you, Snape." a hand touched his shoulder as he turned to leave. The young wizard shook it off angrily and started to walk away.

"Harry, please."  
>Harry halted, frozen to the spot by the tortured plea that had barely escaped from the lips of one of the most proud emotionless men in the world. He hesitated for a moment then turned slowly around, almost afraid of what he would see. Snape was ashen, a look of agony on his beautiful face. He was so thin, so tired. Did the man even bother to take care of himself? No, Harry didn't suppose he did. That was how Snape was, though; never once did he think of his own wellbeing.<p>

"I..." Snape began "I have no right to speak to you, and you have no obligations to listen to what I have to say." he paused, waiting for Harry to say something. When no reply was forthcoming he swallowed and continued. "I tried to stay away, but Granger wouldn't let me. She told me something that wouldn't leave my mind. She told me about you, Harry. I tried...I tried to forget about you. You were so full of life and vigor, just like Lily. It was all I could do to stop myself from." he stopped speaking for a moment and took a jagged breath. "I hated myself for the feelings I harbored for you, Potter. Every day you took each challenge life gave you and you defeated it. Nothing fazed you, it was" he laughed a little and covered his face with a hand. "You were so innocent, so pure. I didn't want to sully you, so I kept my distance. I lashed out at you, I was cruel and yet you took it all. I was so sure you hated me, it killed me when I thought about it but I knew it was for the best. The day you told me you loved me I almost wavered. I couldn't let myself do that, though. I was old enough to be your father. You were Lily's _son. _I felt as though I was betraying her memory. So you see, I couldn't let you do it. You had too much instore for you to be saddled with an old man, you were uncorrupted. There was no way I was going to dirty you. Which is why I had to do it. These hands of mine have been tainted, they have done so many things that I am not proud of. I don't deserve your love. I had hoped it was just a passing fancy, something you would get over soon enough. I wanted you to find someone you could be happy with, someone good. Now look at the situation..." Snape said bitterly, turning away from Harry; he couldn't bear to look at the boy. Silence reigned as the two of them stood on the sidewalk of the bar. Trees rustled their skeleton branches in the autumn wind. Snape waited half dreading Harry's reply. When it no reply was proffered he closed his eyes, determined to walk away silently. He felt numb. How could he have been such a dotard? Was he getting senile at last? Merlin, did he honestly think thathe_, _Severus Snape, could save anyone let alone the one person whose heart he had crushed years ago? "I apologize for taking up your time, Mister Potter." his voice sounded hollow to his ears. What a fool.  
>Suddenly he felt arms around his waist. Harry buried his head in the coal coat, clinging to Snape's body as if it were a life support.<p>

"Don't leave me." the boy mumbled into Snape's back. "Don't you ever leave me."  
>Snape closed his eyes and leaned his head back. A tear, an honest to God tear slid down his cheek and plummeted to its watery demise on the collar of his jacket.<p>

"I won't. You'll never be alone again, I swear it."

Harry smiled, he finally felt safe and warm.

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><p>This is the last chapter! Thank you guys sooo much for hanging in there! Reviews please! I really love reading them. They always manage to cheer me up! Sorry this story has no smut, but my other short stories (which are going to be following this story line) that I'm planning on writing will make up for that, I promise you!<p>

Pretty much throughout the whole story I've been listening to one song that I think really sums up the relationship of Snarry in this story. It's kind of the theme song! Whataya You Want From Me – Adam Lambert.


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